“You can tell a lot about a fellow’s character by his way of eating jellybeans.”
I eat the red jellybeans first. After all the red jellybeans have been greedily devoured, even if small children must be shoved aside or tricked to secure them all, I then seek the red-derived jellybeans, the pinks, and the purples. Once the bounty of red, pink, and purple jellybeans has been exhausted, I lose interest rapidly. I might revisit the bowl periodically, in passing, to poke around and see if any new jellybeans of my preferred colors have spawned overnight. I might even eat an orange one, but I always regret the decision afterward. I feel that I’ve settled for less than what I wanted, less than I’d deserved, and the bitter aftertaste of self-loathing lingers.
I never, and I do mean never, eat the white or the black jellybeans. I suspect they were invented as a practical joke to make children, and adults who have forgotten how bad they taste, make funny faces. The green jellybean exists for the sole purpose of being shot out of one’s nostrils. Both nostrils at once earns extra points. Of course, accuracy is important as well. There’s art in precision. Green jellybeans should not be eaten before, or after, nostril-shooting. I’ve no idea why the other colors exist. Perhaps the were developed just so that the children will try some, deciding they don’t like jellybeans, and then leave the bowl alone so that distinguishing adults like myself can eat the red ones without any further interference, discussion, or pesky pleas to share.
I’m not sure what all this says about my character, or why Ronald Reagan thought jellybean eating methodology had any bearing on anything at all. Jellybeans, as good or as bad as they might be, are no metaphor for life. Though life may be both sweet and sticky at times, or eventually it seems, lethal, that does not equate to wad of hastily swallowed jellybeans lodged in one’s throat whilst two green jellybeans clog the nostrils. Life will kill us with or without jellybean asphyxiation.
Does it then speak to our gluttony? Our generosity? Scram, kid. The red ones are mine. Does it speak to our discerning taste? Our ability to write lengthy prose about jellybeans?
Maybe Reagan was already going over the deep end when he fired this arrow of wit into the crowd.
Maybe Reagan mixed the white and black jellybeans and was suffering green-smoke-filled hallucinations as a result of ingesting the noxious concoction.
Maybe there’s still a red one left. I’m going to go check.
I blame Lauren for this post. I was just sitting here watching Adele sing love songs to me on the TV but Lauren INSISTED that I post this instead.